Love Always, Olive.

1

1. (Harry’s POV)

Her name was Olive.

Olive like the color of bruised apples, moss, and my grandfather’s favorite sweater. But those things hardly fit her. Colorwise she should’ve been named Rose like the color of flowers and lipstick, or Aqua like the color of the ocean and those little Tiffany boxes.

But, Olive had no need to change her name… It went far deeper than just a drab color. It’s a latin word meaning “to desire or long for love, harmony, and companionship.” It is a name for peace, for love, for friendship… for her. Now I think about it, I reckon no other name in the book would fit her as properly as that one did. She was always a person of peace and love, nothing less.

She was, in simplest terms, perfect.

Right off the bat, it was hard not to love her- Olive. I don’t know why, but I honestly don’t think it was possible to hate her. I mean yeah, she fucked up, a lot, but we all do. I guess in some ways, she screwed up more than most… But perhaps that was the source of her natural appeal. Maybe we all had some strange fantasy, some odd hope, that we would be the ones to save her- to change her. We refused to believe the truth because, who wanted to accept the fact that someone as loving, and funny, and sweet, and beautiful as Olive Mackenzie was already walking down the path of inevitable destruction?

I first saw her on the fourteenth of September, but didn’t realize how much I liked her for a few days. That day was cold and rainy, as most days in Somerset, England are, but she shone through the fog clearly. I had never met anyone like her. She had enough energy and personality to make the entire school fall in love with her instantly. She was a liar and a beauty queen, a pessimist and an optimist, she was heaven and hell, she was my life and my death, she was everything… and I loved her.  

She was sent here- to Somerset’s only boarding school- because she apparently had a ‘fallout’ back home. Her family shipped her away to be with us hoping we could help. And I think, that in the long run, we did.

Everyone here at Roundview Residential College seemed to be troubled in one way or another. That, or our parents didn’t know what the hell to do with us so they sent us away. Liam drank, Sophia lost her V-card in her parents car a few years back… while they were driving, Zayn got caught graffiting on multiple occasions, Jen’s parent’s hated the fact that she was lesbian… there were so many more stories to share, but it would take me days to tell you about everyone. In that sense, everyone here had a story to tell. I loved that. We all shared our stories and listened with no judgement. I take that back… I never did. I have been here since year nine and never had I once shared my tale. It wasn’t until Olive came that I began to open up.

Oh, her problem? Well, to say it nicely: she was an alcoholic who happened to enjoy drugs on the side.

 

Before (Olive’s POV)

My hand clutched the bottle’s neck. It was cold and the condensation kept spilling over my fingers. I stared at the small drops of vodka, water, or whatever they were, before tipping it back. The hard alcohol burned down my throat and nestled into my stomach. The feeling was blissful, really fucking blissful.

Although no one knew it yet, I was at my going away party. They all figured that this was just another one of my over the top parties- but it was my farewell to my little crowd of admirers.

There were the wannabes- makeup drenched, hair perfected, annoying laughed bitches. They were seen as my best friends to everyone but me. I just used them to pass time.

Then, there were the ‘fillers,’ if you will. They consisted of faces I couldn’t pick out in a crowd and names that flew in one ear and out the other. They were my fans. My posse. Groupies. And I was their leader. I’m still not sure how that happened. More or less its always been this way, everyone believing and loving every word I’ve said. I was reckless, and for some fucking crazy reason, people loved me for it.